


Midas

by CScarlet



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Everyone Is Alive, Like severly touch-starved, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Truth or Dare, only mentioned tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 11:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18193703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CScarlet/pseuds/CScarlet
Summary: It wasn't Ash.It was himself, pathetic and inexperienced, his craving growing with every hug or friendly push from his current friends, but fear latent and blinking at the same time, peering at him from behind cover, always watching him, judging, controlling.





	Midas

**Author's Note:**

> Will be adding tags as the story progresses.

Eiji had a special fondness for Shorter. He was a cherished friend, one that had his admiration and loyalty. Shorter’s integrity diffused inspiration and encouraged the lost. His probity motivated Eiji at times and ashamed him at others, but the end result always tasted like solid improvement and vast possibilities. 

So it was safe to assume that Eiji had no qualm admitting to his respect towards his fellow asian friend. Eiji was honest in nature but an enabler at heart, his shape lined with enthusiasm and friendliness. He complimented others and felt their reactions deep inside his chest, an infinite and soft feeling, like cotton so smooth it fell through your fingers. 

And though that sincerity of his sometimes left room for asperity, it never diminished Eiji. He knew that there were people around him that needed to hear a kind word once in a while, and he was determined to never let anyone yearn for long. 

It was easier with people like Shorter. He never doubted Eiji even when his frankness engulfed harder truths, and even less so when a compliment was thrown at his way. That was how Eiji learned that Shorter’s bullet proof ego had an inconspicuous quality to it that marred its authenticity, and that amiable words could crush and tore at its shield easier than vituperative speech.

So in short, Shorter had developed a velvety affection for the occasions where Eiji endorsed his ways. He  _ aaw_’ed and  _ ooh_’ed and hugged Eiji until crushing the boy with his bare arms wasn’t an option but a past event, and then remained with a smile slashing his face for the rest of the day.

All in all, Eiji felt more than justified when he presumed that his affections towards Shorter were reciprocal. They enjoyed the company the other had to offer, they shared laughter, teased each other, teased other people together. Eiji liked to think of them as good friends, and assumed Shorter did so too. 

Until now.

The cheap sunglasses had slipped down the curve of Shorter’s nose bridge, creating a weird illusion of proximity between them and his mouth when a smile twisted upwards at one side. Perched there, over the tip of his nose, they did nothing to hide two narrowed eyes, which were tinted with a glint of ominous mischief. A stray stream of vibrant purple fell between his eyebrows, his glabella drawing wrinkles as if reacting to it, but really, Eiji could tell the way his friend’s face contorted when he was trying not to laugh anytime.

The thing was, Shorter wasn’t even looking at him, and that fact alone made Eiji feel even more embittered. There was an incandescent animosity towards the situation boiling low on his stomach, but there was an even greater flame there, and it was plain embarrassment. 

“Excuse me?” Came a voice from his right, and boy, was Eiji glad that someone other than him broke the silence, because if the task were to be left at his hands, there was no telling when the deed could have been completed.

But when his eyes followed the place that voice had come from, he found a vexed Ash, a defensiveness lurking over him like shards of crystal stuck on fabric. His serious stance was only tainted by the faint blush starting at the bridge of his nose and his wide eyes, the whites of them encompassing the clear green at the center.

Ash looked about as appalled as Eiji was feeling. When he tried to make his voice work to calm Ash down, he realized that his mouth was agape, and quickly closed it with a dry and clicking sound. It was, however, overlapped by Sing making an overtaxed and gurgling noise, like he sipped on a bad tasting soda and wanted it out of his mouth. 

Sing was just sitting by Shorter, not as close as the three of them were, but close enough to display veiled interest, nonchalantly playing with his phone. When Eiji looked over at him in a cry of help, he noticed that the youngest of the group looked mentally worn out and like he was wishing to be anyplace else, as if this was exactly what he expected to happen when Shorter announced they had to play his idea of a game.

Eiji completed the circle resting his gaze on Shorter once again, but now he was ready to call him out. Nonetheless, that’s not what happened, since the older boy was once again ahead of everyone else, and spoke before any of them could. 

“You heard me.” Was Shorter’s retort, and Eiji had to give it to him, because he had the audacity to sound offended, as if the fact that his words were incredulous to them was a silly mistake ready to be amended. 

Shorter filled his lungs in excess, making a show of sighing, feigning drained disbelief comparable to someone that had been trying to teach a child a basic task unsuccessfully. He gesticulated his right hand in a lazy circle, as if showing the rest something only he could see. “I’ll repeat myself for ya.” He said, pretension in each and every word, and settled his open palm over his chest, looking at Ash. “I,” he started, and then used the same hand to point at Ash’s way in an exaggerated manner “dare you,” he changed his target then, only going as far as to tilt his hand in a lazy and condescending show, pointing at Eiji now. “to kiss him.” Was the final verdict, demonstrating a haughty undertone to it all that pulled at the spiked threads of annoyment that seemed to be hooked right under Eiji’s ribcage.

And the thing was, Eiji knew Shorter was only teasing. Shorter had a friendly malice stored for only them, his thirst for travesty and mockery harmless but vexatious. His pestering was most often than not a daily occurence, so Eiji was more than used to it. What was more, Eiji generally enjoyed Shorter’s shenanigans. It brought a carefree mood over them all, an untroubled and easy painting that gained colors with each of his jokes. It was also another side of him, and even when the weight of those antics regularly came upon Eiji, he was more than ready to return the taunts.

However, the relevance of teaching Shorter the value of ‘too much’ was firmly overdue.

“Shorter!” 

And Eiji was glad to find his voice, but his daunted yell had a weird echo to it, an outraged and loud one, making the japanese realise that he wasn’t the only one that had howled at Shorter. Ash and him had both called for their friend, and that made Eiji  instinctively  look at the blond once again. 

This act was mirrored by Ash, who seemed to show the same reaction to the situation as Eiji. Any other time, a shared look between them meant a shared smile, guileless and inadvertent, but always present. At times, that fact was Eiji’s trump card. They still had those kind of moments, after all. Those acidic and helpless occasions where everything around Ash seemed grey and too far away, and all of Eiji’s words had their meaning taken away before reaching him. It felt like holding onto a serrated edge, the need to let go close and easy to choose, but the want to jump over heavy and strong. Moreso, Eiji demonstrated to be an obdurate persona and always tried until the end to lift Ash’s spirits, unless told to stop. Through trial and error, he now knew the effectiveness of exploiting Ash’s empathy, and sometimes, everything Ash needed was someone that could smile at him even when he was buried in one of his worst moments.

But this time around, Eiji could not bring himself to smile. Not because it didn’t seem appropriate, definitely not because he didn’t want to. There was just a filter over them, a glassy mist that kindled doubt within Eiji. There was a moment of utter despair in him, black and sticky, when Ash angled his head away from him, breaking eye contact. Something in Ash’s face wasn’t brightening Eiji’s learned comprehension, and that was a new and crooked feeling that didn’t sit well in him. 

Ash was using his stoic card, or trying to, and it was palpable in the rigid line of his eyebrows. There was a poor masked embarrassment under it as well, visible in the way the tip of his ears reddened. Nervousness, shock, annoyment. But there was something else folding everything together, something that slithered between Eiji’s fingers and reared his head to deride him. He had always been able to read Ash, but now there was a contorted phantom over the blond’s features, unknown and nameless, and it seemed to denote a void within the japanese. He wasn’t even capable of associating a positive or a negative vibe to that new expression, the two opposites now looking juxtaposed to Eiji under the strain that the situation bestowed.

Eiji always felt a cool bleakness every time Ash rejected him in any way. That same feeling was now tangling itself in his lungs, roots that grew too large to contain squeezing and tearing at his insides with every breath. But, granted, he supposed he couldn’t blame him. Not ever, and certainly not now, when they were the butt of a joke that had the added capacity to twist and bend the situation into a stray bullet.

After all, they had been together for far too long, and Eiji knew better. They had met in middle school, been inseparable since. They had shared time, fights, tears, smiles. And fears. Lively and harmless fears, weird but solid fears and true, deep fears that had long become a part of themselves, adhered to their nervous system, present in every tip of their fingers and every nook of their body.

And Ash had told him every shape and color of those kind of fears. 

Told him about sweaty hands and smiles so sharp they made him bleed, about corners without escapes and dirty beds, about demeaning words that seeped a black and poignant slime that seared a dirge into Ash’s heart. In Eiji’s head, each time the blond gave him another piece of the puzzle, another untold story, he pictured him in a monochromatic room. A space without windows nor furniture, the traces and corners of that area sketchy and cartoonish, like a child’s show. There’s people nearing Ash eventually, surrounding him until he can no longer be seen. They have no faces, and their style is noisome and looks detrimental, sharp but unstable, more suited for a horror movie.

But now Eiji was the one making him uncomfortable in a way that could awaken a tirade of inimical aches, even though that was the one thing the japanese had always been mindful to not do.

“Drop it, Shorter.” Said Sing, who was now engrossed on his phone, fishing Eiji out of his reverie. He tried to convey gratefulness to Sing with a single look, glad that no one had noticed his own mind slowly lapsing into a drab state. It used to shock him, how sometimes Sing seemed to be the more mature of them all. Now that fact kind of felt like a safety blanket.

A tsking sound came from Shorter, who redirected his gaze to Sing after returning his glasses to their original spot, effectively shielding his eyes from the world again. “C’mon dude! He said dare, I dared him.” He said, and flicked Sing’s phone, making him struggle to not drop the device in an alarmed silence. Sing’s internal panic didn’t deteriore Shorter, who once again looked over at Ash. “I don’t get why you gotta act like this. It’s not like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

And of course, Eiji knew Shorter’s quip was meant for Ash, but it still struck him as if those words encased him in a trial. He distantly heard Ash retaliating that claim, Shorter following suit with his own snappy answer, but the rest was lost to him.

It wasn’t knowing that Ash had kissed before, of course not. He already knew that bit, after all. It was the twitchy, impish presence at the back of his brain that nudged and squeezed until Eiji recalled his own experiences regarding the matter. 

So yet again, no, it wasn’t Ash.

It was the image of his parents, words linked to politeness, behaviour and discipline always dancing in their mouths, the weight of importance belonging to those concepts only and far, oh so far away from comfort, need and touch.

It was his classmate, all those years ago, trying to get close enough to kiss him after her confession, and Eiji hitting the back of his head when he reared enough to meet the wall behind him.

It was his old teammates, changing in the locker room after training, laughing and joking and not realising how hard Eiji was trying to make the space between them and himself grow, something unthinkable and scary coming with the thought of skin on skin.

It was himself, pathetic and inexperienced, his craving growing with every hug or friendly push from his current friends, but fear latent and blinking at the same time, peering at him from behind cover, always watching him, judging, controlling.

“I haven’t.” He said, not expecting anyone to hear. His attention wasn’t really on the others, his wringing hands too alluring in this moment of distress. 

“I haven’t kissed anyone before.” Eiji repeated, a notch louder this time, but with a reticent mood still. If Shorter’s argument dictated Ash’s experience as an allegation, he was the only one that could defend their positions. After this, Shorter would stop trying to force Ash into kissing him.

It was with that nascent thought that he looked up, fully intending to wrap this situation up.

What he did not expect, however, was to be met with three pairs of eyes, all of them looking at him in an astound silence from a distance, giving the room an illusion that made it look cavernous.

He did not mean to, but he risked a single look at Ash, whose eyes looked incredibly green. He wasn’t looking disgusted, his expression wasn’t assessing him, and his demeanor wasn’t callous. He just. Looked shocked. Which, in Ash? Was something definitely rare.

"Wait, you-" Went Shorter, a false feeling of control lingering in his transitory indoor voice. “C’mon, dude!” He exclaimed then, in a much louder instance, in that wheezy way he used when he wanted to say too much but had no time. Both Eiji and Ash jumped a bit at Shorter’s barrage. He had a hold of Sing now, yanking him in little but fast movements from side to side. “Now you really gotta kiss him!” 

And Sing, bless him, was the one to answer, being pulled and all. “What kind of logic is that?” And oh, yes, he needed to cook Sing his favourite sometime soon, because he seemed to never leave his metaphorical side.

It was at that point, when both chinese boys started an oh so  _ urbane _ altercation, that Eiji realised how unwitted was Shorter. He wasn’t surprised, not in the least, but he had a vapid taste on the back of his tongue, frustration directed at himself for realising far too late that Shorter just wanted them to kiss, and there was no real importance in the arguments he needed to pull to attain that.

But this was as far as Eiji was letting the situation go.

“Shorter, please.” He started, in that beseeching way that always made Shorter listen. “I do not like this. You are trying to force Ash into doing something he does not want to. Change the dare?”

Eiji had no time to celebrate that Shorter seemed to actually, honestly listen to his words, even letting Sing go in the process, because the older boy looked distrustful but amused. He had a half smile formed, but the corners of it were wobbly and not as sharp as normally, telling Eiji that Shorter was confused but trying not to show it. 

He didn’t realise that, once again, everyone was looking at him, because Shorter had his full attention, and even more so when he decided to move his sunglasses, resting them on top of his own forehead, a disbelieving frown carved there.

Shorter was way too hard to catch off guard, and that was exactly how he was acting at the moment. Eiji felt like there was something he was greatly missing, and that feeling experienced an upsurge when the chinese boy opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. 

“Dude-”

“He’s not forcing me.”

And that was very much not Shorter, Eiji found. He noted that once again his vision was occupied with gold and green, Ash's expression coated over with gritness, but his eyes still holding onto his former surprised edge.

“He’s not forcing me.” He said, a perfect echo to his last say. “He’s forcing you.”

There was an acerbic gurgle at the back of his throat, unintentional but effective at conveying his disbelief. “No, he’s not. You are the one being forced.”

“No, I’m not!” An inchoative wrinkle right in between Ash’s eyebrow got Eiji’s attention for a second, nearly making him miss the momentum his voice was gaining, words turning high and quick. “He’s forcing you.”

“He’s no-”

“I’m not!” Eiji thought Ash and him had been lost in their weird moment more time than it was when Shorter’s voice appeared again, the unexpected sound reminding them that they were very much not alone. They both looked at Shorter, but with the need to either receive or give answers, Eiji couldn’t say. 

He looked like he was appraising them both, a growing smirk and a knowing frown. His words were jaunty and gratified when he said. “I’m not forcing anyone. Your words.” He said his last sentence louder when both Ash and Eiji inhaled to reply, arms elevated in a disarmed gesture. Shorter let a full minute pass, and the japanese swore he could hear a phantom drumming. “So.” Was what Shorter settled for, and stretched his legs in front of himself, as if satisfied after a feast.

“...So?” Urged Eiji, without knowing if the direction this was taking was to be liked or not. 

“So!” Sing was making an abortive motion, but if Shorter saw, he paid him no mind and continued talking. “Since I am forcing a grand total of zero people to do this. Ash, yet again, I dare you to kiss Eiji.”

And wasn’t that the sound of a gavel coming down? 

There was an unequivocal retaliation in Eiji’s mind, one that was clogged down by a dormant feeling in his heart before he could voice it.  He contemplated Ash, who in turn regarded him as well. The japanese was sure that with one look Ash would be able to understand that the best option was to call it all off.

But Ash only looked back at Shorter in a bored matter, “Sure.” he shrugged that word out, a word that to Eiji? Felt like a momentous sound.

However, Ash seemed to think twice as well, and searched Eiji’s eyes again. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

And, too fast maybe? He didn’t feel in control anymore. He knew better, Eiji was meant to understand beyond this, he was supposed to respect their boundaries and draw the line. Why then, were his words breaking out of him without his consent?

Ash moved then, making his body face Eiji now, gaining his full attention. They looked at each other, and Eiji pleaded the Gods to give him the ability to hear any of them if they decided to speak to him in that moment, because the drilling sound of his own heartbeat rushing in his ears was making even breathing difficult.

He thought once again about calling this off. About saying that he didn’t feel comfortable, after all. But wouldn’t that be lying? He wasn’t the one uncomfortable, no matter how unbelievable that thought felt. He had always shied away from direct touch, after all, and Ash did so too. 

The few seconds they spent gazing at each other nearly undermined Eiji’s resolution, guilt somehow nesting in his chest.

He was this close to reassure Ash that he absolutely did not need to do this, but the other beat him to it, and- “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

...And wasn’t that his line? “Only if you are okay with it.” 

“Okay, stop” And that came in hand with a chuckle, airy but deep, and Eiji was sure if he looked anywhere else right at that moment, his heart would never forgive him. “We’re doing it again.”

There was a tight tug at the corner of his lips, a small smile making his way there. He was still a bit doubtful, a haunted, vagrant feeling walking side to side in his head. He could not shake the belief that they were still forcing the blond. That word, forcing, was putting ashes in his mouth and ice in his gut. It made him look down, chagrin putting his head low.

“Just a kiss, huh?” Said Ash, that question accompanied by the sound of rustled clothes as he neared Eiji. His tone was enabling, as if the words had no meaning other than the answer they were supposed to receive.

“Just a kiss.” He replied, trying to go for an apathetic tone, but tripping before that, falling in a breathy whisper.

“Hey. You look like I’m about to punch you.” 

And that made Eiji look up, because the times where Ash’s voice forgot about being deep and stoic and gave way to a gentler nature held Eiji’s number one place as his favourite sound, one that could lure him out from his most profound fears. 

For a second, Eiji lost his axis, making him feel a mellow wave of vertigo that disequilibrated his vision when he found Ash much closer than before, their faces sharing a proximity that made impossible to capture the blond’s entire visage from Eiji’s point of view. It didn’t matter, however, because even when all he could see were the other’s glinting eyes, it was second nature for him to be able to label each and every emotion with just those emeralds looking at his way. He could easily tell by the arch under each eye that narrowed them into green crescents that Ash was smiling. In Eiji, that created a transaction from the galling but dour feeling in him that garbled his guilt to a bone shaking relief that lifted his shoulders and traced a small, and finally honest, grin on his face.

“Yes, well” Eiji’s words had a warning to it, anticipated amusement that tasted sweet but spicy, like the start of a promising inside joke. His own smile was rounding the words into something gracious and warm, and Eiji could tell Ash’s grin was growing because of them. “You look like you have already been punched.” 

There was a puff of air against his lips when Ash breathed a chuckle at his words, surprising him into stillness. It must’ve been shown in his face, because Ash’s smile dropped, and he withdrew a few inches, feeding the space between them. 

Seeing Ash retreating froze something in Eiji’s chest, making him unable to inhale. It felt like he always imagined drowning would feel, a serene halt in time where the silence was the enemy, a hectic need to breathe that grew lethargic with each passing second, and the impulse embed in his survival instinct to reach out. At the moment, what made sense was to hold onto Ash, and before Eiji could array his thoughts before his actions, Ash’s shirt was already wrinkled between his fingers, his hand shooting out to grab at the blond with no other motivation than Eiji’s distress.

He couldn’t help but flinch when he realised what he had done, a weight of contriteness sinking his stomach. Touching Ash without his consent was the last thing he wanted to do, after all, and so he tried to take his hand back before he exacerbated the situation, apologies disgorging from his mouth simultaneously. 

His excuses were cut short, however, when Ash’s hand rushed to rescue his own, the one that touched the blond previously, effectively inhibiting him from taking it further away.

This triggered another shared look, even though Eiji felt his whole world being reduced to the feel of Ash’s thumb securing itself on the center of Eiji’s palm, the rest of his hand surrounded by Ash’s. If they moved them, just a tiny tilt, a subtle shift, their hands would slot together in a proper hold. It was warm, so warm, was another’s touch always this warm? It was new but weird, adventurous but familiar. He was supposed to feel scared, cornered. When was the last time someone had held his hand? 

He had no time to think about how Ash would be feeling, because their eyes seemed to not be able to look anywhere else. Eiji’s vision was full of green, much so that even the background seemed to melt in a blurry greenish light. 

Ash didn’t look repulsed in the least. He was actually wearing an expression that sang to Eiji in the barest of ways. It was one that seemed to mirror his own former worry, the one that compelled him to grasp at Ash before, the one that implanted an anguished image of the blond getting too far away to reach.

And how funny it was, that that same understanding lightened not only his heart, but Ash’s as well. Eiji saw the moment Ash discerned their shared feelings in his eyes, felt it in the clutch of his hand, sensed it in the way he was bringing them even closer.

Eiji’s last question before Ash closed the distance and kissed him, was why his eyes wouldn’t stay open when just a second ago he wasn’t able to blink in fear of losing sight of the blond.

But see, kissing Ash had an opalescent idiosyncrasy. It was like a story told to the gods only, a phenomenon with no demonstrable audience. A perfect crime, a warning, a point of no return. It was like finding something no one knew had been misplaced. A hidden want with a lambent quality.

Kissing Ash had felt bottomless. Absolute. 

Eiji was on the ground before knowing he was falling.

**Author's Note:**

> (shorter voice) if you're not being forced... and you're not being forced... then who's flying the plane?
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RitsuSlays).


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